


Return to Ithaca

by TheLittleLostTimeLord



Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M, Reunions, Thomas and James are such a power couple, escape from the shame farm, fuck peter ashe, gay rage, happier ending for a bunch of characters, vane lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 03:51:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15016067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleLostTimeLord/pseuds/TheLittleLostTimeLord
Summary: Thomas breaks out of the plantation before Flint get there. The reunite in Nassau and take down Rogers together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Currently there are 10 chapters planned it might run a bit longer or shorter, but I'm actually going into this one with a plan sketched out for the first time ever

It was growing warmer and more humid with each passing day, just as it did each spring in the Carolinas. Thomas wiped the sweat from his face with a handkerchief as he watched the gates to the plantation open to allow a carriage entrance. It was an old habit of his. He’d long stopped believing that anyone would come for him here, but he still looked up each time he heard the gate open. He turned back to the field and resumed his weeding. 

No matter how many weeds he pulled it seemed there were twice as many the next day. Tiny hydra sprouts that tormented his days. But it was better than many of the other jobs on the plantation. The boiling room was a dreaded assignment, one Thomas had only had the misfortune of getting a few times. He’d seen a man, also called Thomas, die when the support for one of the boiling pots gave out and the scalding liquid spilled onto his head and body. Thomas touched the speckled scar on his left arm where some of the sugar, partly cooled, had splashed him. It had been hot enough to scar and cause him to be unable to use his hand properly for a while, but not enough that he lost function permanently. He’d been lucky he was told.

Oglethorpe had slowed production for a few days and urged caution but no lasting changes had been made and the guards had them working at their previous speed again by the end of the month. That had been when Thomas gave up the last shred of hope that Oglethorpe might be the good man he described himself as, somewhere deep inside. He was a slaver through and through just like the owners of every other plantation. He often wanted to splash boiling sugar on the man,  _ his owner _ , he would remind himself.

“You know, James,” Thomas muttered to no one. “Pirates, pirates can be pardoned, but slavers will never know my forgiveness.”

He spoke to James and Miranda sometimes, or rather their memories. They had died years before at the hands of a pirate, Captain Flint. Peter had come to tell him in person and he had wept and howled for hours until he was too exhausted to even breathe. 

“Well, except one pirate,” He frowned as he continued weeding. A particularly tough weed stood before him in defiance to all attempts to eradicate it. Thomas was tempted just to cut off the stem and leave it for another day, but it would only get more difficult to remove it he allowed it anymore time to extend its roots. Thomas took up his spade and began to trace its roots one by one until he had pulled them all from the ground. He grinned as he tossed it into the bucket with the others and set upon the next one. He barely noticed the time pass as he systematically exterminated the weeds in his section of the field. 

“McGraw!” A voice shouted. Thomas looked up, smiling as he did each time his assumed name was called, a small act of defiance against his father and the world that had condemned him. “Are you going to work all night?” 

Thomas realized the sun was setting in the distance and he rose from his knees, a task that was not as easy as when he’d arrived at the plantation, and smiled at the man who’d called to him.

“Come on, McGraw, before there’s no dinner left.”

“I’m coming, Johnson. I just got distracted, lost track of time.”

Johnson chuckled, “At least you can get your work done while distracted. If you’re up for it, I’m sure the men would like to hear one of your stories.”

“Of course,” Thomas agreed falling into step with the other man.

Thomas’s imagination outmatched any other man on the plantation and was rivaled only by one of the women who worked in the kitchen. He would tell them stories, some from books he’d read, others that he’d fabricated, and every man would listen enraptured with the worlds he’d create with his words. Many nights one of them would beg for more and their motion would be seconded by several others as Thomas assured them he’d tell them more then next day, but that they all needed rest.

There would be no time for a story that night however. When they reached the dining hall they found it abuzz with gossip. 

“She’s too young for him! Gotta be his sister or cousin!”

“Fairy got tits ain’t she. Ain’t so little”

“No way! She’s too rich for him.”

“Maybe her daddy…”

“What’s everyone talkin’ ‘bout,” Johnson asked merrily.

“Master’s got a girl up at the house. Pretty little thing.” One of then men, Peters, answered.

“Little, being the operative word. Doe can’t be more than sixteen. These leches…” Another man, Simons, added. 

Thomas tuned out the conversation for the most part. He listened for any important information but for the most part he focused on remembering Miranda’s face smiling and James laughing. He wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to have one or both of them here. Would it be better or worse? He would to have them near him but he wouldn't be able to bear seeing them in chains, metaphoric or otherwise.

He went to bed that night listening to the sounds of the other men in his cabin. It was comforting. After years of Bedlam where the only sounds he heard at night were the skittering of rats and sounds of distress, it was a relief to hear the gentle breathing of other people, to be able to look up and be reminded he wasn’t alone.

When Oglethorpe summoned him to the main house the next day he wasn’t surprised. The man seemed to have it in his mind that he was a kind of friend to Thomas, despite the fact thats Thomas was his property. He often called Thomas into the house to have discussions about books or politics. Thomas hated him, but when Oglethorpe was happy the others had an easier time so he played along.

“Good morning, Thomas,” Oglethorpe greeted.

“Good morning, Mr. Oglethorpe,” Thomas faked a smile.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about our newest arrival by now.”

“A bit, yes.”

“Well she’s a rather special case. Her father has sent her here, temporarily to protect her and would like her education to continue uninterrupted. She’s a bright girl and I could think of no one better to tutor her than you,” Oglethorpe led him to the library where the young woman was waiting for them.

“Mr. McGraw this is Abigail-”

“Barlow,” The girl interrupted. “Abigail Barlow. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr….McGraw.”

She hesitated  a bit as she greeted him seeming more curious than apprehensive or concerned.

She  _ was _ a very pretty young woman Thomas noted, but it was the mischievous spark in her eye that immediately endeared her to him. He recognized a bit of himself at her age in her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Barlow. Now tell me, have you studied Roman history?”

“Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres,” She replied. Thomas smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last line is the first line from Julius Caesar's Commentāriī dē Bellō Gallicō (English: Commentaries on the Gallic War) it translates to _All Gaul is divided into three parts_  
>  I was forced to study Latin at my school you are all gonna have to deal with it sprinkled in.
> 
>  
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://www.wolfstarforever.tumblr.com)  
> [My Writing Tumblr](http://www.thelittlelosttimelord.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get on the gay rage ship everybody! It's time to sack Charlestown!

Cold, James felt cold. Not physically, but emotionally. For a few moments he’d believed, actually believed he could get some part of his life back, that he’d be able to walk away from the sea for good, to have Peter as a friend again, to be able to give Miranda a life in society, as much as he hated it for taking Thomas from him, give her a better life and maybe find some peace. Then Miranda saw the damned clock.

If only she’d told him when she first noticed it. He could have done something, could have saved her. If he had known, if she had told him, he would have...he didn’t know what he would have done. It was too late anyway she was dead, and he would be soon as well. He didn’t care. 

James could see the crowd but he couldn't hear them. All he could here was the gunshot and Abigail’s scream from the night before playing over and over again in his mind. He didn’t even notice Peter approaching until he was right in front of him. 

He listened as Peter tried to assuage his guilt for what he’d done, but James wouldn’t grant him a grain of forgiveness. Peter would just have to watch him die knowing both he and Miranda died hating him. That Thomas died in a cold dark place and that all of it was his fault. Peter had always desired approval. He craved it like a becalmed ship craves wind. Peter would have to know he’d destroyed any chance of redemption in the eyes of his friends for the rest of his life. 

“Even in this moment, alone with a condemned man, you are unable to speak the truth.”

James was ready to die. He had nothing left. No one left. Flint would live on in legends, of course, but James McGraw would fade away with no one left to care for his memory. It was for the best. He looked at Miranda’s body on display and took a breath.  _ You’re with Thomas now. I hope I’ll be joining you. _

As they read out the charges and presented the evidence he sat silent. They wanted him to yell and make the whole thing interesting and dramatic. He wouldn’t give it to them. They would present their case and he would be hanged, he wouldn’t let them take his dignity as well as his life. They asked him if he had anything to say, so he spoke: calmly and eloquently.

“I have one regret. I regret ever coming to this place with the assumption that a reconciliation could be found. That reason could be a bridge between us.” He spoke to Peter, though he did not look in his direction.” Everyone is a monster to someone. Since you are so convinced that I am yours, I will be it.” Silence hung over the crowd.

Then Vane stepped into the square with the diaryl Abigail had kept while she sailed with him and turned the whole trial on its head. James saw his chance to fulfill Miranda’s last wish: to burn the whole city to the ground and he was going to take it. 

“Wait, James.” Peter pleaded just before James stabbed him.

James forced him to the ground and made him look at Miranda’s body, cold and lifeless. “Her word will be the last word for this place.”

With a strangled gasp Peter choked out his last words. “I lied….he’s alive...in Savannah...Thomas...is alive...please….James.”

James froze for a moment staring at him. His whole world shrunk. The battle raging around him disappeared. Thomas was alive. He needed to go to him.

“Fuck, Flint, we gotta move.” Vane tugged his arm and they both began to run.

As they sailed back to Nassau Vane had approached him. “Do you want to-”

“No.” James replied shortly.

“Good.” Vane nodded. 

“Just keep your men in line and everything will be fine.” 

James walked away from Vane and locked himself inside his cabin. He cried, quietly so no one could hear him. He cried because Miranda had died and he cried because Thomas lived. It was supposed to be the three of them against the world. If only Miranda hadn't yelled. If only Peter’s guards had been less jumpy. Maybe she’d still be here.

James swiped everything off his desk, just to watch them fall. He wanted to destroy something, Charlestown hadn’t been enough. He needed to bring down more of the world that had taken his lovers from him. He screamed and tore his cabin apart until he was breathing heavily then he sunk to the floor and cried more. 

Later he stood walked over to his desk, picked a quill and paper up off the ground and began to make a plan to recover Thomas and to bring down the entire British Empire.

He found a ribbon on the floor. It was Abigail’s. Abigail he realized was all alone in this. Orphaned on a strange new continent after the ordeal she’d gone through. She was different from the rest of them. Even though she’d only been on the ship a few days James had grown quite fond of her. He’d looked forward to seeing her often if they had been able to come to reconciliation with Peter. She was a clever girl and she could open her eyes and see the world as it truly was, her diary had proven that.

James wondered if he should try to find her, ensure she had a good life, or if his presence would distress her further, especially if she knew he’d been the one to kill her father. He’d find out where she was, he decided, but he wouldn’t interfere further in her life if she wasn’t in danger. But that would have to come after he found Thomas. Thomas was his first and only priority now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out shorter than I wanted and I'm not entirely pleased with it but I can't for the life of me figure out why. I pulled so lines from the show. Also the story is going to alternate every chapter between Thomas and James and I already have half of chapter 3 and like 75% of chapter 4 done so expect them very soon.
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://www.wolfstarforever.tumblr.com)  
> [My Writing Tumblr](http://www.thelittlelosttimelord.tumblr.com)


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